


yesterday i burnt the sky

by feyluke



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Pre-The Raven King, Prose Poem, aka bad poetry, comma splices abound!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyluke/pseuds/feyluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not so much pynch as a ronan study. situated somewhere in the second half of blue lily, lily blue</p>
            </blockquote>





	yesterday i burnt the sky

looking at him was a dull fire in your bones, deep and settled, like hot coals

it was different than the fire and acid in your veins, that pumped and raced dangerously when you heard an engine roar, or sparked and raged irrationally when declan opened his mouth

it was different than the fire and absence of that had injected itself into your bloodstream when you found your father’s body, turning itself on and off like a switch, burning even when left unattended

this fire in your veins was burning, burning, a reminder you’re alive; a fire that was greedy and needful; a way to keep yourself burning and breathing

sometimes his eyes would catch yours, or his hands would twist anxiously, or his laugh punched out like an unexpected blow to the gut, and the coals would flame up, more kindling to consume (sometimes you thought it would consume you)

this gentler fire is more powerful than your rage, even more consuming, but safe because it’s contained. safe and quiet and selfless and it’s steady and warm and safe and oh god you are drowning…

 

you know, logically, that you are a creature of dreams; a creator of dreams

most of the time you think you’re a flame ready to lose control at any moment. most of the time you think you already have, burning down everything you touch

you try not to look back, but sometimes (most times) looking back is all you can do and all you can see is what has been ruined. lately, you see what you’ve ruined; what you’ve tried to ruin

you are trying to fix this, you think

you know: some things can’t be fixed

(but maybe: maybe some things can rebuilt or adjusted, slowly, carefully)

 

in your dreams, he is a twisted thing, a reflection of your self-loathing. of course he’s disgusted with you, of course he hates you enough to attempt to kill you. here, he is, after all, what you make him

it’s not fair to turn him into this grostesque violent creature, but your subconscious knows it’s the only incarnation you won’t fight against

at least, these used to be your dreams

here are your dreams now: sometimes he is there, all strange boy, magic flowing through him like a stream. you work together; you nuture; you tend to the dream space. you exist as a single unit, creating and sharing and gentle

it’s almost convincing enough to be real, but the lie is in how he doesn’t turn inward from your glances

the lie is: your attention isn’t fuel for his void of self-worth

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://feyluke.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
